The Heart of It
by CloverJuice
Summary: It's the night after Peeta and Katniss' tour to District 11, and neither can sleep. Katniss reveals one more secret. One-shot.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this one-shot; they are the creations of Suzanne Collins. Also, a slight nod to good old JK for good measure ;-)**

**Happy reading!**

I can't sleep. My anger has long since subdued, but the hurt still lingers. I could sense in the arena that Katniss and Haymitch had some sort of understanding between them, something I was not part of, but I had also assumed that whatever that was, it was over. It stings to find that they have still been keeping things from me. I'm not the one who _should_ be protected.

She is.

Rationality seeps into my brain, arguing that with President Snow having eyes and ears everywhere in the Hunger Games, Katniss couldn't have filled me in on any hints from our mentor she had received. That, combined with Haymitch dragging us through the District 11 Justice Building earlier so we wouldn't be heard, confirms our suspicions that his surveillance extends far beyond the arena.

Yet still I feel they are keeping something from me.

Parched, I walk down to the living area of the train.

"Can't sleep either?" the voice can only belong to her. Sat in the dark, I can make out her figure as my eyes adjust to the light. Turning on a lamp, I fix myself a glass of something I've never tried before, _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Tea_. I notice the corners of Katniss' lips turn up in a smile. Feigning annoyance, I ask her what's amusing, but really that smile warms me every time. "You're definitely braver than I am," she starts, "that stuff? Each mug is different. Apparently the Capitol got the inspiration from some novels from our ancestors. Effie thought she would play it safe with a nice pink sachet earlier. Mud."

"Ugh," I eye up my drink suspiciously, "So that's why her face was screwed up for most of the evening? I thought she was just stressing over tomorrow's schedule. Ah well, here goes nothing." I take the first gulp, "Huh. Tastes meaty, like… drinking gravy. I'm sorry again for earlier, Katniss."

"Thanks, Peeta, I'm sorry too. No more secrets, I promise," she says, avoiding my gaze.

I need to get her alone, where we're free to be ourselves, "I guess the driver needs his rest too, the train's stopped for the night. How about some fresh air?" I suggest.

My words are met with a shrug as Katniss gets up and leads the way. When we're a safe distance from the train, she sinks into the grass.

"We didn't want to tell you. Not yet, anyway," she admits.

There is something else. "I don't need protecting, Katniss. I can handle it, whatever it is," I insist. The anger I felt threatens to return, but the longing I feel holds it back. When will she _finally_ let me in?

"It's not a secret. Not exactly, anyway," she starts. "Haymitch and I came to the same conclusion; well, after he spelt it out to me. Maybe you've come to the same one, I don't know. They're never going to stop, Peeta. In the eyes of the districts and the Capitol, we'll always be the star-crossed-lovers from District 12, and Snow will _always_ expect us to be that way. It doesn't stop after the tour."

I feel her eyes on me, watching intently as I let the words sink in. Maybe I hadn't given enough thought to how long we would have to keep up the charade of being a happy couple. I sit down next to her and start picking at the grass, "Would that really be so bad?"

"Yes!" she exclaims. "Can you really see us doing all that just for the public eye? Being Snow's puppets for the rest of our lives? Being told to get married, or even have children that would more than likely star in their own Hunger Games, never knowing exactly what's real or not? It's bad enough as it is, trying to understand my feelings for you whilst having to act all the time. That. For the _rest_ of our lives, Peeta. Could you really do it?"

The joy I feel at her acknowledgement of her feelings for me is dampened by the overwhelming guilt that follows. Suddenly I feel awful. "This is all my fault," I mutter.

Katniss looks shocked, "No, Peeta –"

"Katniss, listen," I urge. "If it wasn't for me, making that announcement like a _fool_, we wouldn't be in this position. The star-crossed-lovers from District 12 wouldn't exist."

She nods her head in agreement, "No, they wouldn't. They'd probably be dead, Peeta." The look in her eyes is so sincere; I know that this moment is one of the real ones.

"Still. I've known my feelings for you for years, Katniss, and I landed them on you in public. If Snow forced us into marriage, you have to know it would be real for me. I promised myself I'd give my life to you in that arena, one way or another. I've been unfair to you these past few months; I shouldn't have expected you to know how you feel so soon, especially with everything."

With a smile, she accepts my apology. "I do know one thing, Peeta. No one is ever going to know me the way you do."

"Not even Gale?" I snort.

A sigh escapes her mouth, "Gale knew the girl entering the arena, but I'm not sure if he could ever know the girl that left it. We went through something together that he would never understand. I really would have eaten those berries, you know. I don't think I could have handled being the one left behind, to do all this without you." she admits.

I couldn't do it either, but to hear her say it warms me. "It's bad enough as it is. What happened back there? A man got shot for _whistling_? Why?" It was a rhetorical question, so I'm surprised when I get a response.

"Mockingjay," Katniss mutters.

She sits in silence for a few moments, so I patiently wait for her to continue.

"That tune, it was Rue's. She taught it to me in the arena, so if we were separated, I'd know she was okay if I heard the mockingjays whistling that tune. I guess the Peacekeepers saw it as an act of rebellion, to use the Capitol's accidental creations as a sign of unity amongst the districts," she muses. "She's why I couldn't sleep tonight. I was dreaming of her death, laying down the flowers, when suddenly they all became roses. White roses, _dripping_ with blood. Most of my dreams have been like that recently, Peeta, with Snow creeping his way into my memories, tainting them. He controls _everything_, and it sickens me. I used to think Gale's rants were pointless, that nobody could hear, so why bother? I get it now. We shouldn't have to just accept things the way they are. How is making children fight to the death _right_? How is hanging people for trying to feed themselves right?"

"You say Gale can't really know you, since the Games, but you sure seem to understand him a lot better for it," I realise, saddened.

"Maybe," she admits, "but his kiss was as much of a surprise to me as your little announcement. What I'm thinking is… if this little tour doesn't go to plan, we could stand up against Snow, Peeta. Everyone in Panem knows who we are, our voices would be heard!"

She wants to rebel. She's already admitted to having considered running away, but this is far too dangerous. "Katniss, we can't. It could make things worse, a full scale war, even. Throwing ourselves out of the frying pan…"

"…and into the fire? Peeta, we've been caught up in flame since the beginning," she states, with only the slightest hint of humour.

And I know she's right.

Whatever happens in these uprisings lead Panem, we'll be right at the heart of it.


End file.
